Gladius
by MissLindaLee
Summary: When you don't know who the hunter is, how can you hope to survive? Twelfth story in Angelica Corusca.
1. Chapter 1

TITLE: Gladius  
>AUTHOR: MLL<br>RATING: T for violence and some suggestive content  
>TEASER: When you don't know who the hunter is, how can you hope to survive?<br>NOTES: Still don't own 'em...'nuff said.

The air was thick with the stench of rancid water mixed with the unmistakable odor of human waste. Water trickled from side tunnels into the main corridor, mingling with the trash and other filth. The sewer rats—most of them the size of small dogs—scurried along the edges, trying to stay as dry as possible; their noses twitched rapidly as they scampered around, trying to pick up the foul scents of rotting food.

The overhead lights barely shown farther than a few feet, but it didn't stop the young man from running as fast as he could, his leather boots slipping occasionally on the wet concrete. He tripped and fell, his cloak and pants soaked, but he didn't care as he quickly scrambled to his feet and continued running. Trying to remember where he was, he turned a corner, and he quickly skittered to a stop as his stomach clenched; even in the dim light, he could see the bricked wall as clear as day.

He was trapped.

Breathing heavily, he quickly pivoted on his feet, and he stopped short when he saw a familiar figure standing less than ten feet away. The young man wondered how the person had found him so quickly—and how he hadn't heard his approach—but the glint of the large sword in the person's hand caught the young man's attention. He swallowed, looking at the person's face.

"Look, I promise you, I won't say a word," he said, still breathing heavily, his heart pounding. The person slowly inched forward, and the young man took a step back. "You don't have to even pay me, okay? I won't say anything, I swear!" The person continued moving toward the young man as he backed up against the brick wall. "Please, don't kill me, you don't have to kill-"

The young man suddenly grunted and stiffened before a trail of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. If he had had time to look down, he would have seen the blade of the sword stuck in his abdomen. He slowly tilted his head in disbelief; the person's eyes were hidden by a hood, but there was just enough light to make out the cruel smile on the shadowy face.

The person put his free hand on the young man's shoulder, almost in a twisted display of offering comfort, before he slowly backed up, pulling the young man with him. He stopped after a few feet and gripped his sword a little tighter before running it all the way through to the hilt; the young man couldn't see the exposed blade behind him, covered in his own blood. Wordlessly, the person quickly twisted the blade ninety degrees and withdrew it; the young man gave a final grunt before collapsing and didn't move again. Blood poured from the young man's stomach, mingling with the filth and dampness, as the shadowy figure turned and disappeared back into the shadows.

(Chapter 1)


	2. Chapter 2

The alarm clock buzzed loudly, and Linda groaned from underneath her comforter. She shifted and reached out absentmindedly to hit the snooze button—and heard the distinct crunch of plastic and metal. The teenager slowly peaked out and saw her hand resting on top of the remains of her alarm clock.

"Great," she muttered as she turned onto her back and shut her eyes, sinking back into her pillows and throwing the comforter back over her head; she made a quick mental note to go by Fordman's after school to replace the clock. All was quiet for a few seconds, then Krypto barked loudly, startling Linda so much she sat straight up in bed; she barely had time to look around before the white dog jumped onto her lap and licked her face.

"Good morning to you, too, boy," Linda said, smiling, scratching behind his ears. She wasn't too fond of her alternate alarm clock, but she couldn't stay mad at him for long.

"Linda!" Martha called from downstairs. "It's time to get up!"

Linda sighed. "I'll be downstairs soon!" she shouted back. She kissed Krypto's head before reaching over and scratching Streaky behind her ears. The cat yawned and stretched dignifiedly before sitting on her haunches and starting her morning tongue bath. Linda threw back the covers and quickly hurried over to her door and opened it; Krypto jumped off the bed and scampered out, while Streaky took a more leisurely time but eventually left. Linda grinned as she shut the door and switched into sonic speed.

Downstairs, Martha was busy at the stove, preparing a hearty breakfast of eggs, pancakes, and bacon; a fresh pot of coffee had finished brewing earlier, and a pitcher of freshly squeezed orange juice was chilling in the refrigerator. Jonathan sat at the kitchen table, reading the morning paper, his cow mug—filled with hot coffee—within reaching distance. He glanced up briefly as Krypto came running down the stairs, Streaky sauntering gracefully behind him; the two pets walked over to their pet bowls and sat down, waiting.

A few seconds later, a blue blur came down the stairs and zipped around the kitchen. Neither Jonathan nor Martha took much notice as the pet bowls were filled in less than a second and the blur streaked out the kitchen door while the pets happily chowed down. Martha took the juice from the fridge and poured a glass before bringing it and a plate piled high with food to the table, setting both down next to a fork and knife already set at Linda's spot. She grabbed her coffee mug from the counter and came back to the table. Martha had barely sat down in her chair when the blur streaked back in over to the table; Jonathan glanced over the top of his paper to see Linda sitting at the table, chewing on a piece of bacon, her work clothes and hair covered in strands of hay.

"Your mother only how to call you once," Jonathan said, smiling. "That's a rarity." Linda shrugged as she chewed happily on her eggs. "So, is there any particular reason why you got up on time and did all your chores before seven?"

"Nope," Linda replied cheerfully.

"This wouldn't be because your father and I are going out of town for three days, is it?" Martha asked, amused.

"And you and Jimmy are going to celebrate Valentine's Day here tonight?" Jonathan asked, a smile playing on his lips.

"Is Valentine's Day today?" Linda asked innocently before taking a sip of her juice. "I hadn't noticed."

"Uh huh," Jonathan replied, his smile growing as he reached over and ruffled her hair.

"Okay, okay, I am a little excited," Linda confessed. "Am I that obvious?"

"Well, just a little," Martha replied, smiling.

"And, since we'll be gone by the time you get out of school," Jonathan said, folding his paper and putting it aside, "I think we should go over the rules one more time." Linda groaned a little. "Linda, this is the first time you're going to be in charge without an adult around."

"You don't think I can handle it?" Linda asked, looking a little hurt.

"If we didn't think you could handle it," Jonathan answered, "then we wouldn't be leaving you in the first place."

"But seeing how you are planning on having dinner and a movie with Jimmy here tonight," Martha spoke up, "alone, we are going to remind you to behave yourselves."

"I don't see why you think we wouldn't be behaving ourselves," Linda replied. She saw the looks her parents gave her; she sighed. "Guys, I know it was a few weeks ago, but I was on red kryptonite—no inhibitions, remember? Off that stuff, I have plenty of inhibitions."

"Yes, we remember," Jonathan said, "and we'll both be really happy if you keep those inhibitions intact."

"Yes, sir," Linda replied a little more subdued than she'd intended.

"Linda, we do trust you," Martha said, "both of you, but we just want you to be careful, okay?"

"I know," Linda replied, "but I promise, we're just going to have dinner, a movie, and exchange presents." She glanced up at the wall clock and saw it was almost seven fifteen. The young woman's eyes widened as she zipped into super speed, wolfing down her food and zooming upstairs in a second; she returned five seconds later, having showered and changed for school. She wore a white fitted t-shirt with hand-painted, heart-shaped ladybugs, a pair of form-fitting black jeans, and red sneakers. Her freshly washed hair was pulled back and held in place by a red velvet hairclip with matching ladybugs glued on it. She wore a pair of matching ladybug clip-on earrings, and her backpack was slung over her right shoulder.

"So, what do you think?" she asked as she turned around.

"I think you look very lovely," a familiar voice spoke up. Everyone looked over and saw Clark—dressed in a suit and tie, long coat and scarf—leaning against the frame of the kitchen door.

"Clark!" Linda grinned as she ran over and jumped at her cousin, nearly bowling him over. He smiled as he wrapped his arms around her and hugged her close, briefly lifting her off her feet.

"Hey, Short Stack," he said as he put her down. "How are you doing?"

"Fine," Linda replied. "So, you really like my outfit?" Clark nodded. "I made it myself—well, I painted the shirt and made the earrings and hairclip myself."

"Well, I think you did a fantastic job," Clark said, grinning. "Oh, I have something for you." He quickly walked over to the porch swing and returned with a pink rose; he held it out to Linda. "Happy Valentine's Day."

"Oh, Clark, thank you," Linda said, taking the rose and giving him a quick peck on the cheek.

"Clark," Martha smiled as she and Jonathan walked over to the two; they each gave their son a quick hug. "What brings you out here?"

"Oh, just thought I'd see you guys off before I head to work," Clark said.

"And not to spy on me?" Linda asked, smiling as she folded her arms.

"Of course not," Clark answered innocently.

"Right," Linda replied, unconvinced.

"Linda, I think it's time you head off to school," Jonathan spoke up quickly before his children descended into a bickering match.

"Fine," Linda replied, glancing at Clark briefly before hugging her parents. In spite of knowing Clark wasn't being honest, she gave him another peck on the cheek. "See you later, guys. And I promise the house will stay in one piece while you're gone." She was about to leave, but Clark stopped her.

"Don't you think you should get a jacket," he asked, "and a hat and gloves?"

"I'm not cold," Linda replied. The adults gave her that 'we know that, but you still need to dress properly' look; the young woman sighed and rolled her eyes a little. "Fine." She zipped upstairs once more and came back down a second later. She stopped long enough to give the adults one last peck on the cheek, and they could see her bundled up in a purple squall jacket, with a black knit cap and matching gloves. "Bye. Have a good time, you guys!" She blurred out the door, down the steps, and across the driveway, leaving a cloud of dust and frost in her wake.

"So, are you really here to just see us off?" Jonathan asked his son, an amused smile playing on his lips.

"Well, yeah, of course," Clark replied quickly, "and, uh, to see if you guys are really sure you don't want me hanging around until you get back. I don't mind."

"Clark," Martha said, folding her arms.

"Okay, okay," Clark replied. "Look, I just don't know if they're ready to be by themselves." He looked a little embarrassed. "I mean, we know how they feel about each other."

"Look," Jonathan said fatherly, knowing what Clark was referring to, "I know it wasn't pleasant hearing about what Jimmy and Linda almost did last month, but you can't let that cloud your judgment. The fact that nothing happened, even when Linda was on red kryptonite, shows that they can be trusted around each other by themselves for a few hours."

"And I don't think we have to worry about Linda throwing a party while we're gone," Martha replied, giving her son a look, "like a certain someone did when he was in high school."

"You're not going to let me live that down, are you?" Clark asked wryly.

"Not a chance," Jonathan replied, smiling.

"Hey, in all fairness, I did tell Chloe and Pete to keep it small," Clark pointed out. His cell phone rang at that moment, and the reporter reached into his pants pocket; he saw Lois' name on the screen and smiled as he answered it. "Hey, Lois." He listened, then nodded. "Yeah, I'm on my way to the Planet now, why?" He furrowed his eyebrows, listening. "I thought he had school today?" He raised his eyebrows. "Oh, okay…yeah, I'll meet you there." He hung up and put his phone back in his pocket.

"Everything okay?" Jonathan asked.

"Yeah," Clark replied. "Murder investigation; Lois and Jimmy are already on their way, so I need to go."

"Doesn't Jimmy have school today?" Martha asked.

"Got the day off," Clark replied. "Teacher inservice." He gave Martha a peck on the cheek and hugged Jonathan before stepping back and spinning in a tight; in a flash, he had changed into his Superman outfit. "Bye, guys; have a good time." He leapt off the porch and zoomed away from the farm, leaving Jonathan and Martha watching until he was out of sight.

"Do you think he'll really take a step back and not hover?" Martha asked.

"Not sure," Jonathan replied, "but we have to trust that he'll do the right thing, just like we're trusting Linda and Jimmy." He leaned over and kissed her, smiling. "Now, Mrs. Kent, I believe you and I have a little appointment in Metropolis that we're going to be late for if we don't leave soon ourselves."

(End of Chapter 2)


	3. Chapter 3

"So, you and Jimmy, huh?" Mattie teased Linda as the two of them walked down the main hall at Smallville High, dodging other students as they made their way to the art room. "Alone for the evening."

"It's not like that, Mattie," Linda said, smiling. "It's just dinner, movie, and presents."

"Right," Mattie replied, still grinning. "So, you got the whole house to yourself for the weekend, huh?"

"Yep."

"So, no adults for three days?"

"No adults for three days," Linda answered. She saw Mattie open her mouth and stopped her. "And don't even think about asking if I can have a party or anything like that."

"Not even a small one?"

"When Clark was my age, he and his friends threw a 'small party,'" Linda said as they turned the corner, "and about a hundred people showed up and almost trashed the house. Daddy and Momma were very eager to point out that if I tried anything like that, they would ground me until summer." They stopped at the door to the art room, and Linda's features darkened a little. "You know, this is the first time since school started where I don't want to walk into that room."

"You're still upset Ms. Patterson left?" Mattie asked a little incredulously.

"Well, yeah," Linda said, trying to keep the hurt from her voice. "Why shouldn't I be?" She could still remember Ms. Patterson's announcement: she had won the Kansas State Lottery and wanted to give her parents the world trip they had been dreaming about for years. That wouldn't have been too bad, but then she had told her class she had wanted to study at the Royal Academy of Arts in London all her life, and now she had the financial means, so she wasn't planning on coming back. The class had been upset, naturally, but Linda in particular had been devastated; losing her favorite teacher was bad enough, but it had been right after the red kryptonite incident, so she had taken it especially hard.

"So, you're not happy she's finally able to do something she's wanted to all her life?" Mattie asked.

"No, of course not," Linda replied, "but I never would have gotten as far in my artwork as I have without her being here." She sighed and turned to her friend. "And then they hire this new guy to replace her, and all we know about him is his name?" She shook her head as she folded her arms. "I don't think so."

"Why don't you give him a chance?" Mattie suggested. "You never know what kind of person he is." She smirked. "Maybe he's secretly a wizard."

"Okay, would everyone stop with the Potter jokes," Linda grumbled, rolling her eyes. "They're getting old."

"You haven't even read the books," Mattie said.

"They're still old," Linda retorted, "and I don't have to give him a chance; I know what kind of person he is with a name like 'Jayson Potter': rumply, old, and probably has a paintbrush stuck up his butt."

"Actually, I usually store them in an airtight container," a masculine voice spoke up. Linda and Mattie stiffened and turned their head to see an unfamiliar man standing just in the open door; Linda instinctively sized him up. He appeared to be in his mid-thirties, with short, unkempt dark brown hair and brown eyes. He wore an unbuttoned brown sports coat over a black polo shirt tucked into a pair of dark blue denim jeans; his shoes were brown designer hiking boots. He had an amused smile on his face, but he carried himself in such a manner that Linda almost missed the fact that he was only a few inches taller than her. "Bristles get stiff, otherwise. I also usually keep my clothes well ironed, but I've given up trying to smooth out my hair, and my philosophy on age is you're only as old as you feel." He held out his hand out to Linda. "I'm Jayson Potter. You must be Linda Kent."

"Yes," Linda said slowly, feeling her cheeks growing warm as she shook his hand.

"And you are?" Potter asked, turning to Mattie.

"I'm…going to my class," Mattie replied, trying to keep from grinning too much. She quickly mouthed 'he's hot' to Linda before turning on her heels and hurrying down the hall. Linda rolled her eyes, then looked back at her new teacher warily.

"So, Miss Kent, Ms. Patterson spoke very highly of you," he said, smiling at the teenager. "She told me you're one of her most promising students."

"I'm not that special, sir," Linda said, smiling politely before brushing past Potter and heading into the room. She was so busy getting her supplies ready that she missed the brief intense look in Potter's eyes as he kept them fixed on her.

"Don't bet on it," he said in a barely audible whisper.

(End of Chapter 3)


	4. Chapter 4

"Come on, Henderson," Lois said as she and the inspector stood near the yellow police tape that sectioned off an extremely filthy alley between two buildings in Hell's Gate, "there's gotta be something you can tell me." The air was cold and damp, and the reporter pulled her coat tighter around her, wishing for a large cup of hot coffee at the moment. She glanced over at Jimmy, taking pictures of the crime scene as the medical examiner tended to the victim: a young man with dark hair, dressed in a blood-soaked cloak and pants. It appeared he had been tossed like a piece of garbage among the boxes, crates, and trashcans.

"Why are you so interested in this case, Lane?" Henderson asked, trying to keep his annoyance in check while doing his best to ignore the bite in the air. "There are murders like this all over the city all the time."

"So, why is the S.C.U. getting involved in this one?" Lois pressed. She could tell Henderson was trying to come up with something they both knew wasn't going to be true, and she did her best to hide her smugness.

Henderson took a deep breath, deciding it wasn't worth the effort to try and cover it up. "Fine," he said, "but you better not print anything until you've checked with me, okay?"

"Depends on what you have," Lois replied.

"According the victim's license," Henderson said tersely, shooting the reporter a look, "his name was Craig Yaxley; eighteen years old, from Arlington, Texas."

"Texas?" Lois asked, confused. "A little far from home, huh? How was he killed?"

Henderson shrugged. "Something large and sharp," he said, "but I'm a little more interested in his attire: same as the others."

Lois raised her eyebrows. "'The others'?" she asked.

"Yaxley makes the third the past two weeks," Henderson answered. "All victims are young men, all are from out of state, all appeared to be killed with the same murder weapon, and all wearing costumes out Game of Thrones or something."

"So, how did this become a S.C.U. case?" Lois asked.

"Since the mayor is breathing down my neck to solve this as quickly," Henderson retorted, "especially with Wonder Con in town this weekend. Not too many people want to come to a city where its visitors are being murdered—especially ones who dress like those attending Wonder Con." He glanced over as the Yaxley was placed in a body bag and zipped up. "I meant what I said, Lane; everything I said is off the record." He left to attend his duties.

"For now," Lois said under his breath.

"Hey, sorry I'm late." Lois turned around to see Clark jogging up to her, looking a little winded.

The female reporter smirked at her partner. "You're late, Smallville," she said. Her nose wrinkled a little, and she grimaced slightly. "You know, I call you that so much I'm starting to hallucinate the smell of hay and manure on you."

"Might want to come up with a new name, then," Clark smiled. He glanced around, briefly taking in the scene. "So, what did I miss?"

"A lot," Lois replied. "I'll fill you in after we get back to the Planet." She glanced over as Jimmy came over. "You done, Jimmy?"

"Yeah, I think so," Jimmy answered as he fiddled with his camera.

"Hey, Jimmy," Clark said, trying to sound cheerful.

"Hey, Clark," Jimmy replied as he finished and looked up at the reporters. "Look, since I'm done, I'm gonna get back to the Planet and get these pictures developed." He gave them a polite but brief smile before heading out of the alley to his car.

"Okay, so what is it with you two?" Lois asked as she and Clark left the crime scene.

"What?" Clark asked casually; he knew what Lois was going to ask, but he didn't want to talk about it.

"You and Jimmy," Lois replied. "You two have barely talked to each other in the past few weeks."

"Just guy stuff, Lois," Clark answered. "Don't worry about it."

"If I didn't know you any better," Lois said, "I'd say there's something you're not telling me."

"Lois, I can't keep anything from you," Clark said, smiling. "You're too good of a reporter." He kissed her nose. "Now, why don't you tell me what I missed, and I'll buy you breakfast."

Lois knew Clark was keeping something from her, but she decided not to press it for the time being. "You got a deal," she replied, smiling back.

(End of Chapter 4)


	5. Chapter 5

Linda stood in the electronic section of Fordman's, staring at the rows of alarm clocks. The school day had been uneventful (aside from meeting Potter), and she was glad it was over so she could get ready for the evening. Grinning to herself, she quickly picked one that was similar to the one she had pulverized that morning when her phone buzzed; she pulled it out of her pocket and saw Clark's name. The teenager sighed, telling herself not to get upset—yet—as she answered it.

"Hi, Clark," she said, keeping her composure.

"Hey, Short Stack, how's it going?" Clark asked.

"It's going fine," Linda replied patiently. "I'm doing a little shopping before going back to the farm to get the chores done and then get ready for tonight."

"What are you shopping for?" Clark asked curiously.

"A new alarm clock. I accidently hit the snooze button a little too hard this morning."

"Ooh, been there, done that," Clark replied.

"So, what are you up to," Linda said, smiling a little, "I'm sure there's a lot more interesting things you could be doing than calling your cousin and pretending to care what she's doing." She heard Clark chuckle, but she was thankful he didn't attempt to lie to her.

"Well, Lois and Chloe and I spent the morning at the Metropolis Wonder Con," he replied.

"Why are you doing that?" Linda asked. "Looking for some more Warrior Angel comics?"

"Murder investigation, actually," Clark replied. "Someone's murdering young men who seem to have a penchant for dressing up as medieval characters; thought we could find something there, but came up with nothing. We're just waiting for Jimmy to develop the photos before figuring out our next move."

Linda glanced at a nearby wall clock; it was three fifteen. "He said he was going to be leaving around four so he'd miss rush hour."

"I'll make sure he leaves on time," Clark said.

"And what about you?" Linda asked.

"What about me?"

"What time can we expect you to pop in and check on us?"

Clark heard the slightly sarcastic tone in her voice and sighed. "I won't pop in," he said sincerely. "I promise."

"I hope so," Linda replied. "Well, I need to get going. I'll talk to you later."

"Okay," Clark said.

Linda hung up and put her phone away as she headed to the checkout. She knew Clark was trying, but she still worried that he was going to try to find some way to spy on her and Jimmy that evening. She'd reached the front of the store, trying to push that thought from her mind—she didn't want it to spoil her time with Jimmy—when her eyes fell on a nearby Valentine's Day display. The young woman stopped as she spotted a few items, and she grinned as a few ideas formed in her head.

(End of Chapter 5)


	6. Chapter 6

"So, you're really not planning on hovering?"

Clark glanced over as he hung up the phone and saw Chloe leaning against a nearby column, arms folded, smiling. The reporter sighed and leaned back in his chair as Chloe came over and half sat on the corner of his desk.

"You seem skeptical," Clark said, trying to sound lighthearted. He tried sounding lighthearted but felt a little insulted by Chloe's question.

"Well," Chloe said slowly, trying to choose her words carefully, "you have been known to say something and then you…sometimes do something completely different." She shrugged. "I just don't want you to say you trust Jimmy and Linda, and then not act like it."

"Well, what am I supposed to do, Chloe?" Clark asked. "I don't want Linda-"

"This isn't just about Linda, Clark," Chloe interrupted gently, "this is about Jimmy, too. You want him to trust you, and—considering your dismissal of his importance in your life has left the two of you strained like a jar of baby food—you better really start thinking before leaping, otherwise you're going to lose him…and eventually Linda, too."

Clark sighed, knowing Chloe was right, but still frustrated. "So, I shouldn't even check on them?" he asked. "Come on, Chloe, it's Linda's first time home alone; I do have the right to check on her."

"I'm not saying you don't, Clark," Chloe said patiently. "Of course you have the right to check on her, but you don't have to go all 'Big Brother' on them either; letting Linda know you're going to either call or text her to check on her wouldn't hurt." She glanced over Clark's shoulder. "And it might not be a bad idea to let him know either." Clark turned around to see Jimmy heading over from the elevators with a stack of recently developed photos. Clark glanced back at Chloe, raising an eyebrow, as if to say 'do I have to?' He didn't have to be a telepath to understand the meaning of Chloe's 'yes, you have to' expression. Clark sighed softly as Jimmy reached them.

"Got the photos you asked for," he said, putting them on Clark's desk; he stepped back a little, stuffing his hands in his jeans pockets as he waited.

"Thanks, Jimmy," Clark said as he picked up the stack and started flipping through them. Jimmy had done a very thorough job at the crime scene. "Nice job."

"Thanks," Jimmy replied monotonously, keeping his attention focused on his photos. He waited a few moments. "Is there anything else you guys need me to do before I head out? It's getting late, and I don't want to hit rush hour."

"Are you sure you don't want me to fly you out there?" Clark asked carefully. He may not have been comfortable with the thought of Jimmy and Linda being alone together, but he wasn't going to be a complete jerk about it. "I could get you to Smallville in no time."

"No, it's okay," Jimmy said dismissively. "Wouldn't want to trouble you or anything."

Clark knew Jimmy was lying, but he decided not to push it. "Okay," he said, keeping his disappointment in check.

"Well, I'm going to go back to my desk and pretend to be busy," Chloe said suddenly as she straightened up. She gave Jimmy a small smile as she passed him. "Have fun tonight. Say hi to Linda for me." She shot Clark a quick look before leaving them alone in an uncomfortable silence.

"So," Clark said after what seemed like a very long time, "uh…." He sighed as he put the photos aside and got to his feet. "Look, Jimmy, I know you think I'm going to spy on you and Linda tonight; I'm not." Jimmy gave a small snort of disbelief, and Clark chose to ignore it. "However, that doesn't mean I won't call to check on Linda, either; she's still my cousin, and it's her first time home without any adults around." He shrugged. "And, if we're being honest, it'll be the first time you two have been alone together since she was infected by red kryptonite," he saw Jimmy's eye flash with a mixture of hurt and guilt, "which I still don't blame you for, either." He took a deep breath. "So, I'll call around eight, okay?"

"Just once?" Jimmy asked, trying not to sound too snarky; he knew Clark was trying.

"How about I call Linda once," Clark suggested, "and then she can call me after you leave?"

Jimmy shrugged. "Yeah, that's fine," he replied.

"And I'm not sure when our parents will call," Clark added, "but I'm sure they will."

"Okay," Jimmy said.

"And if you wanted to text me or something when you got back to Metropolis," Clark said quickly, "I wouldn't object, either."

Jimmy raised an eyebrow, and he was sorely tempted to give him a snide comment about using the signal watch, but he decided against it. "Okay," he replied. "I'll think about it." He turned to leave, but Clark stopped him.

"Would you mind letting Linda know as well?" Clark asked. "I just got off the phone with her, and I don't want to seem like I'm hovering or anything."

Jimmy stared at Clark for a few seconds. The young photographer knew Clark wasn't poking fun at him or trying to act like a jerk. Clark was just acting like a protective older brother while trying not to act like a protective older brother, and Jimmy understood that; he nodded. "Sure," he said, "I'll let her know. Bye." He gave a brief nod before heading back to his desk to grab his things. Clark watched him sling his bag over his shoulder before heading over to the elevators, wondering just how much progress—if any—had been made.

(End of Chapter 6)


	7. Chapter 7

Streaky and Krypto sat on their haunches on the couch, looking completely unfazed as they watched the blue blur race around the entire house. After a few seconds, Linda stopped behind the couch, holding a mop, bucket, and broom in one hand, and a rag, duster, and wood polish in the other; her clothes and hair appeared a little disheveled from the work, but the young woman surveyed everything as she ran through a mental checklist: shelves dusted, the windows cleaned, and floors swept and mopped.

"Not bad," she said, grinning proudly, "if I do say so myself." She glanced over at the clock on the mantel; it was five after five. "And still enough time to relax in a nice, long and very hot bubble bath." She leaned over to pet the animals, but both of them quickly jumped off the couch, giving their owner a quick growl and hiss as they scampered into the kitchen; Linda fixed them with a bit of an annoyed expression, even though she knew they couldn't see it. "I don't smell that bad, you guys." She sniffed the sleeve of her shirt—and caught the concentrated smell of wood polish, flood and window cleaner, and hay and manure—and her nose crinkled as she quickly pulled her arm down. "Or maybe I do." She sighed and quickly blurred out of the living room, putting the cleaning supplies back into the pantry in the hall, before speeding upstairs.

It was a few minutes before seven when a beat up gray '92 Chevy Cavalier turned onto the gravel drive leading up to the Kent Farm; its headlights shown brightly in the darkness as it passed the barn and stopped near the picket fence bordering the farmhouse. Jimmy turned the engine and headlights off, but he didn't open the car door right away; he just stared ahead at the house in the glow of the porch lights. A tiny voice in the back of his mind started creeping forward, telling him he had no business being there, that Linda would have a much better evening without him.

The young photographer quickly shook his head, knowing it was just nerves, and shoved the notion of ditching Linda out of his thoughts. He quickly glanced at his reflection in the rearview mirror, checking to make sure his hair didn't look too out of place; it was still combed back neat. He allowed himself a confident smile as he took in a deep breath, got out, and closed the door, all the time keeping his eyes on the house.

"You know, I was beginning to wonder if you'd forgotten about me."

Jimmy nearly jumped out of his shoes as he quickly whirled around; less than a foot in front of him, grinning widely, stood Linda. When she saw Jimmy's startled reaction, she immediately looked apologetic.

"Sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to scare you. I was in the shed checking on some of my projects."

"It's okay," Jimmy replied, giving her a half-hearted smile as his heart pounded; his breath formed little clouds as he tried to regain a normal rhythm. He stopped short when he noticed the outfit she wore: form-fitting (*really* form-fitting, he noticed) black jeans, a loose-fitting red and white polka dot blouse…and a pair of red heart head boppers on her hair; he tilted his head, a little confused. "Did you know you're wearing heart antennae on your head?"

Linda nodded, smiling again. "Got them when I bought these earlier today," she replied, holding up one of her feet; Jimmy saw the bright red toe sock with white hearts all over it. "What do you think?"

Jimmy smiled. On anyone else, it would have looked ridiculous, but on Linda it looked just right. "I think you look really nice," he said sincerely.

Linda glanced at Jimmy's outfit under his favorite jacket—a simple black polo shirt, matching slacks, and dress shoes—and smiled. "You look really nice, too," she said. The two just awkwardly stood there, not really looking at each other but not totally taking their eyes off each other either.

"So," Jimmy said suddenly, "are you hungry?" He closed his eyes, realizing what he had asked her. "I-I-I mean, I know you're not hungry—you don't get hungry because you're Kryptonian and everything—but I know we talked about dinner and a movie, but if you don't want to eat, we don't have to; we don't even have to watch the movie if you don't want-"

"Jimmy," Linda said as she touched his arm; he stopped rambling and looked her in the eye. "I've been looking forward to this all day."

"Really?" Jimmy asked, genuinely surprised.

"Really," Linda answered. She knew they both felt nervous, but she didn't want that to get in the way of enjoying a wonderful evening together; she took a deep breath and smiled. "So, what's on the menu tonight, Mr. Olsen?"

Jimmy felt his confidence return. "Well, Miss Kent," he said as he walked over to the other side of his car and opened the passenger door, "let me get a few things, and then I'll show you."

(End of Chapter 7)


	8. Chapter 8

"Is there really such a thing as iocaine powder?" Linda asked around a mouthful of asparagus. She sat on one side of the living room couch, her legs curled under her, holding her dinner plate and keeping her eyes glued to the television. Krypto and Streaky were curled up on the floor near the fireplace, sleeping soundly. Jimmy sat on the other, balancing his plate in his lap; he chuckled.

"No," he said, "it's just something they made up for the movie." He saw how intently she stared at the screen, with her little heart antennae bobbing occasionally, her cheeks stuffed; 'The Princess Bride' didn't seem all that interesting anymore. Linda glanced over and saw Jimmy staring at her, and she quickly swallowed.

"What?" she asked.

"Uh, nothing," Jimmy said quickly as he sat up straighter, nearly spilling his food on his lap. He reached for his glass, half-filled with blood orange, and took a sip; he winced a little.

"What's wrong?" Linda asked.

"It's warm," Jimmy answered. "Could you, uh…?" He made a blowing motion over his glass, and Linda smiled as Jimmy handed it to; she blew a gentle puff over the top, and the soda inside instantly cooled. She handed the glass back to him, and Jimmy smiled gratefully before taking a sip; it was ice cold. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," Linda said. "So…we've had dinner and blood orange soda, and you said you were going—" Her cellphone buzzed on the end table, and she grabbed it; Clark's ID showed up, and Linda gave a little sigh before answering it. "Hey, Clark."

"It's eight, so I'm just calling to check on you," Clark said. He paused. "So, is everything okay?"

"Yes, we're fine," Linda replied, "and, just to let you know, Momma and Daddy called at seven-thirty."

"Okay," Clark said.

"And I will call you once the movie is over, and Jimmy's left for Metropolis."

"Thanks."

"So, I'm going to go ahead and let you go now, okay?" Linda said patiently after a few seconds.

"Okay."

"Bye, Clark."

"Bye."

Linda hung up and put her phone back on the end table. She glanced over at Jimmy, who looked a little bothered, but tried not to look like he was a little bothered; Linda sighed. "Jimmy, you told me that he was planning on calling at this time."

"I know," Jimmy replied, "I'm just waiting to see if he keeps his word." He saw the troubled look on Linda's face, and he knew why; he exhaled softly. "Sorry, I'm really not trying to put you in the middle of this."

"I know," Linda said quietly. "He is trying, you know."

"I know," Jimmy replied. He could tell Linda didn't look convinced, and he suddenly felt horrible for putting a damper on their evening. He glanced down for a moment, then he suddenly grinned to himself; he grabbed Linda's plate and his plate before standing up.

"Hey, I wasn't done!" Linda protested as he headed toward the kitchen. Her plate suddenly flew from Jimmy's hand and back to her; Jimmy stopped and whirled around to see Linda shoveling the rest of her food in her mouth.

"That is totally not fair," the photographer retorted.

"I wanted to finish," Linda mumbled loudly as she chewed, her cheeks puffing out. She swallowed and put her fork on the plate and then let it go; it gently floated back over to Jimmy. "It was a good dinner."

"I understand that," Jimmy said calmly, a small smile on his face, as he grabbed the plate and walked into the kitchen, "but that's still not fair." Linda stuck her tongue out, grinning, as she went back to watching the movie. She was so mesmerized that she didn't notice Jimmy coming back until he was standing beside her, holding two small plates and forks.

"Dessert?" he asked, holding out one of the plates to her.

Linda saw the large slice of cheesecake with cherries inside; it was covered in a chocolate shell, and topped with cherries and chocolate sauce. "Whoa," she said, smiling, as she took the offered plate and took a bite before Jimmy sat down. Her tastebuds exploded, and she closed her eyes and moaned softly in deep appreciation.

"You like it?" Jimmy asked before taking a bite of his own slice.

"I love it," Linda said. "Did you make this?" Jimmy nodded, looking a little embarrassed. "Jimmy, this tastes wonderful."

"It's nothing special," Jimmy replied, hoping his cheeks weren't too red.

"You made a bruschetta chicken bake," Linda said, "pasta with asparagus, mushrooms, red peppers, and parmesan cheese; and now a chocolate cherry cheesecake." She took another bite, grinning. "I didn't know you could cook like this."

"Well, with Mom being gone a lot," Jimmy said, smiling as his cheeks grew warm, "I finally got tired of ramen noodles and mac and cheese." He paused. "So, you really like it?"

"Why wouldn't I?" Linda asked before taking another bite. "This is really fantastic; only a brainless idiot would think this was horrible."

"True, but I still wouldn't call Lucy a brainless idiot," Jimmy replied, "at least, not in front of Lois." Linda stopped and slowly looked over at Jimmy, not sure she had heard him right; Jimmy shrugged. "I'm not joking, and, yes, that means I did cook for Lucy."

"Oh," Linda said casually, suddenly finding the cheesecake more interesting.

"It was only one time," Jimmy added quickly, noticing the sudden shift in her tone and expression, "and it was a couple of months before you showed up, too."

"Jimmy, it's okay, really," Linda said, trying to keep her voice steady as she picked at her cheesecake. "You had a life before I came here, I get that."

"I know that," Jimmy said, gently. He put his plate down on the coffee table and scooted a little closer toward her, lowering his voice a little. "Hey." Linda looked up at him, and Jimmy saw the hurt look in her eyes; he felt horrible, but he was hoping he could still fix it. "You wanna know what happened when I cooked for Lucy?" Linda shook her head. "It was her birthday, and I couldn't afford a present for her, so I decided to make her favorite dish."

"And she didn't like it?" Linda asked.

"She criticized everything about it," Jimmy answered. "The meat was too dry, the sauce too salty…she couldn't say anything good about it; she even told me to my face that if I should stick to buying her things and leave cooking to a real chef." He shrugged; those words still stung slightly, even after all that time. "I didn't want to cook like that for anyone again," he glanced at Linda, giving her a small smile, "before now, I mean."

"Why not **before** now?" Linda asked sincerely. "Why wait seven months?"

"Because we were too busy carjacking trucks, lying to our parents, and getting into all kinds of trouble," Jimmy replied, still smiling; he was thankful when she looked at him and slowly smiled in return.

"Touché," she replied. She glanced at the television screen and glanced at Jimmy briefly before shifting a little and leaning against Jimmy's side. Jimmy stiffened a little as Linda rested against his shoulder, but he quickly relaxed as he carefully lifted his arm and put it around her shoulders. He rested his cheek against her head, expertly avoiding her bobbing antennae, and the two continued watching their movie in silence.

(End of Chapter 8)


	9. Chapter 9

"Are you sure you're going to be okay?" Linda asked as she and Jimmy walked slowly down the path to the drive; Jimmy carried the cooler he had brought the food.

"It's only ten," Jimmy said as they reached his car. "I'll be home around one. It's not like I've haven't stayed up that late before; I have pulled all-nighters."

"I could get you there faster," Linda offered, "even in your car."

"And no one will notice a '92 Cavalier being carried by a teenager girl running almost a hundred miles per hour," Jimmy said, smirking. Linda didn't look amused, and Jimmy sighed as he put the cooler on the ground and placed both of his hands on her shoulders. "I'll be fine, I promise."

"You better be," Linda replied. Her eyes suddenly widened. "Oh, gosh, wait here." She quickly blurred away from Jimmy, heading into the house and returning before the photographer could ask; she held up a small white gift bag with a red bow. "I forgot to give you your gift."

"You don't have to," Jimmy replied, shifting a little. "I didn't bring anything for you."

"You said you weren't finished with it," Linda corrected. "I finished mine, and I want to give it to you now." She gently shoved the bag into Jimmy's hands before he could object. Jimmy sighed and reached into the bag, pulling out a small clay bowl; it was painted navy blue with thin hunter green stripes. "Your first clay project."

Jimmy sucked in his breath, recognizing it instantly. "You kept it?" he asked softly.

Linda nodded, smiling at his expression. "I fired and painted it a couple days after we made it," she explained. "Do you like it?"

"Yeah, I do," Jimmy replied, smiling. "Thank you." He wrapped his arms around her, hugging her gently; he was relieved that she returned the hug. After a few moments, they pulled back a bit and stopped, staring at each.

"You're welcome," Linda replied after a few seconds. She reluctantly let him go and took a step back; she took in a small breath. "You better get going before it gets too late."

"Yeah," Jimmy said reluctantly as he carefully put the bowl back in the bag and opened the driver's side door to his car. He picked up the cooler and put it on the passenger seat before putting the gift bag beside it. He climbed in his car and shut the door, starting the engine before rolling down his window.

"Please be careful," Linda said seriously, "and let me know when you get home."

Jimmy smiled a bit and bowed his head slightly. "As you wish," he said. He put his car in gear and carefully drove off. Linda stayed in her spot, watching the taillights until his car turned onto the main road and headed east. The teenager waited until he was a few miles away before slowly grinning, turning on her heels and headed toward the house, unaware that her feet briefly hovered about an inch above the ground with every step she took.

(End of Chapter 9)


	10. Chapter 10

It was a little after one in the morning when the door to the Olsen apartment opened. Jimmy walked in before closing and locking the door securely; he tossed the empty cooler onto the living room couch before heading to his room. He flipped the switch, and the lamp beside his bed turned on before he headed over to his dresser. He removed the clay bowl from the gift bag and placed it in the middle among an assortment of other trinkets, carefully shifting it until he was satisfied with its location; he took a step back and smiled a little bit, still touched by Linda's gift.

After a few seconds, he tossed the bag onto the bed before reaching into his pants pocket and pulling out his cellphone. He quickly sent 'I'm home. I'm fine. Let Clark know so he doesn't pester me, okay?' before tossing the phone on his bed. A few seconds later, the theme from 'Doctor Who' played loudly; Jimmy quickly grabbed it off his bed answered it.

"Why can't **you** text him?" Linda asked before Jimmy could say anything.

"He's **your **cousin," Jimmy replied.

"He asked **you** to text him," Linda retorted.

"I know," Jimmy said, "but I figured it'd be quicker if-"

"Do you realize you could have already sent him a text by now, and we wouldn't be having this conversation?"

"And miss hearing your lovely voice?" Jimmy asked, smiling.

"Don't try sweet talking me, mister," Linda said, not amused. "If you don't text him, I'll personally come down there and stay with you until you do."

"So, I get to spend the night with you if I don't text Clark," Jimmy said slowly. "What's the incentive to text him again?"

"How about what you said earlier," Linda asked, still not amused, "about not putting me in between you and Clark, remember?"

Jimmy wanted to come back with a snarky remark—he hated guilt trips—but she was right; he sighed. "Okay, okay," he said, "I'll text him."

"Promise?" Linda asked, her tone softening.

"I promise," Jimmy replied sincerely.

"Thanks…and thanks for letting me know you got back safe."

In spite of everything, Jimmy smiled a little. "You're welcome."

"And thanks again for everything. I had a really good time."

"Me too," Jimmy replied, knowing it sounded lame but unable to come up with anything else.

"Goodnight, Jimmy."

"Goodnight, Linda."

Jimmy hung up and reluctantly texted Clark to let the reporter know he was home; Clark (to Jimmy's relief) texted back a quick 'Thanks. Goodnight.' Jimmy paused for a moment, unsure, then texted back 'Goodnight;' he waited for a minute to see if Clark would send something else, but his phone remained silent. Satisfied—and a little surprised—he tossed the phone on his bed before walking over to his desk. He picked up the single black and white photograph from the top of a small stack and stared at it.

The image was a close up of a simple clay medallion hung around Yaxley's neck; what appeared to be an innocuous symbol was carved on it, circled in red marker with the words 'maze' and 'Wonder Con?' written beside it. As the photographer stared at the photo, he started to wonder if should have told Clark or Lois about his theory—and if he shouldn't have hidden the photograph from them. He quickly banished that thought from his mind as he put the photo back on his desk; he stopped when he saw a glint out of the corner of his eye and glanced over. Linda's present rested at the top corner, and Jimmy felt a little bad that he hadn't been able to give it to her on time, especially after what she had given him. A part of him also wondered if he should call her and let her know what he was planning on doing, but he quickly shook his head.

_She'll just worry or try to get involved,_ he thought.

The last thing Jimmy wanted was for Linda to get into trouble—especially after all the trouble he'd gotten her into since knowing her; this time, he was going to have to do it all by himself. He crossed the room to his closet and opened the door. He moved aside some clothes and reached into the far left corner, rummaging around. After a few moments, he pulled out a pair of dark brown leather lace up arm bracers and a matching leather vest; he tossed them both on the bed, as well as a few more articles of clothing and a pair of brown suede boots. The last thing he pulled out was a long black leather sheath with a series of wrapped leather thongs at its midsection; a sword was tucked inside, but the handle was clearly visible. It had been over a year since Jimmy had last pulled the sword from his closet—even longer since he'd last used it—evident by the thin layer of dust covering it, and the young photographer carefully brushed his fingers over the handle, removing the dust and studying every detail.

The gold metal pommel bore the image of a dragon, and the grip was made of alternating sections of black and gold, but the metal guard really stood out; it was in the shape of a two-headed dragon and very detailed—right down to the realistic scales and fangs. Jimmy gripped the handle in his right hand and carefully pulled the sword from the sheath, revealing a long, double-edged blade of solid steel over three feet long. It had been a birthday present from his mother when he had turned thirteen-he had had a mild obsession with Dungeons and Dragons. It would have been a bit heavy to most people, but Jimmy didn't notice its weight; it felt natural and balanced as he took a few light swings and then shifted it from one hand to the other and back.

Satisfied, he put it back in the sheath and carefully set it on the desk; he put the clothes and boots on top of the sword before kicking off his shoes and removed his shirt, tossing it aside. He was anxious to put his plan into action, but the drive back from Smallville—while definitely worth it—had exhausted what was left of his energy reserves; he wouldn't be able to put his plan into action for a few more hours anyway. He finished undressing and slipped on a pair of navy sweatpants and a gray t-shirt. He stretched and yawned before walking over and flipping the light switch off. After his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Jimmy shuffled over to his bed and flopped on top of the covers, his head resting on one of his pillows; he gave a final yawn before drifting off to sleep.

(End of Chapter 10)


End file.
